Pranks & Polka Dots
by littlemsbookworm
Summary: Some days the TARDIS and Clara got along perfectly well. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days.


**Takes place early on during modern day Clara's travels with the Doctor, after The Bells of St. John. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its characters.**

* * *

There were quite a few things in life that Clara Oswald still wasn't sure about. Little things usually, like the purpose of a tachometer or why Pluto wasn't a planet anymore. Most pressingly, she sometimes still had a problem remembering the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon (and suspected that this was a factor in her continuing failed attempts at soufflé making).

However, if there was one thing that Clara was absolutely certain of, it was this: the TARDIS had it out for her. She was fairly sure that it didn't actually want to hurt her; if anything, the time machine seemed more like a practical joker than a malignant force. Nevertheless, it was still a hassle to deal with. More times than she could count, she had been thrown off balance by the TARDIS suddenly lurching to the side. Sometimes the box refused to let her in until she made an elaborate plea to enter (the Doctor, rather too conveniently in her opinion, "couldn't hear her knocking" whenever this happened). The Doctor didn't believe-or at least claimed he didn't- that the TARDIS was anything less than perfectly happy to have her aboard, and Clara had a nagging suspicion he secretly found the ship's antics amusing.

The old girl had a new trick up her sleeve today, as Clara soon found out to her chagrin. She had walked into what should have been the kitchen, and instead was greeted with a shock as the TARDIS jolted and she plunged into the swimming pool.

"Alright, you've had your fun," she yelled, hauling herself out of the water with some difficulty. "Happy now? What's next, shoving me into space? Reversing gravity and stranding me on the ceiling? On second thought, I better not give you any ideas." She looked down at her drenched clothes. "This cardigan was brand new too…"

"Clara?" she heard the Doctor's voice coming from the hallway. He popped his head in. "Oh here you are! I thought you were getting something to eat. But swimming's fun too! If you wanted to do that instead, you could have just told me."

"Yes, I was about to get a sandwich when suddenly it occurred to me that jumping in the pool fully clothed was a smashing idea!" Clara said sarcastically, wringing out her hair. "Believe me, it wasn't my idea. _Someone_ thought it would be hilarious to mix up the rooms." She glared up at the ceiling.

She frowned when she saw the Doctor biting his lip, obviously trying not to smile.

"Oh it's funny to you, is it? We'll see how funny it is when I get your precious bowtie soaking wet!" She grinned and started to walk towards him, arms outstretched for a hug.

"Oi, Clara, let's be reasonable here!" The Doctor quickly backed into the hall and slammed the door between them. "The TARDIS was just having a little fun! Don't take it out on an innocent piece of clothing!"

Clara tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. He was holding it shut from the other side. She sighed. "Oh open up. I'm not going to harm your prized bowtie." _Not right now at least._

Slowly, the door opened. The Doctor still looked a bit apprehensive, and she noticed his hand never left his collar.

"Do you have any clothes I could borrow? I'd really like to get out of these."

The Doctor brightened. "Yes, right! Wouldn't want you getting sick now, would we? Or worse, be stuck in wet socks. If there's one universal horror, it's being stuck in wet socks. The squelch, squelch, squelch, every step you take! Then if you've still got them on when they dry your feet turn into little prunes, all wrinkly and shriveled. In fact, there happens to be a planet where it's actually used as a form of torture. Very effective-"

"Doctor? Thrilling as this story may be, I'd like to change sometime this century please."

"Right, sorry. Clothes. New clothes. Well, not new technically but new for you! Anyways. This way!"

He led her out and through the corridors of the TARDIS until they reached another door.

"Here we are! Wardrobe. I'm sure you'll find something wearable in here. Most of it should be safe."

"Most of it? What do you mean, most of it? Safe from what?"

But he was already walking away, giving her a cheery wave.

"I'll just leave you to it then. Privacy and all that. Have fun!"

Clara thought she saw him chuckle just before he rounded the corner and disappeared. She rolled her eyes._ Weirdo._ Turning around, she cautiously opened the door.

It was a massive room filled with what appeared to be several lifetimes' worth of clothes. Just by glancing around she could see there were garments from every time period imaginable and some bizarre pieces that she could only assume were alien made. Clara also noted that nothing seemed to be organized or sorted in any manner whatsoever.

This was definitely NOT the wardrobe. If anything, this looked more like a trash heap. The reject pile. Either the TARDIS was switching rooms around again, or…She remembered the Doctor laughing at her moments earlier.

_That cheeky git_!

"He brought me here on purpose! He thinks it's funny!" She shook her head. "You two are a real pair, aren't you?" she said to the TARDIS. "Is this how you treat everyone that comes aboard or am I just special?"

She had half a mind to storm out of there, find the Doctor, and give him a scolding the likes of which he had never seen in all his years. But she was scared that if she left the room she'd never find it again and continue to be stuck in her wet clothes. The Doctor was right about one thing- the wet socks were maddening.

As she began to dig through the piles of clothes, she couldn't believe the amount of rubbish there was in this room. There were ripped and torn jackets, shirts that had giant holes as though something had taken a bite out of them, and jeans covered in what appeared to be some sort of slime which she made sure to stay far away from. She found a dented Viking helmet, several tattered kimonos, and at one point what appeared to be half a suit of armor.

"Oncoming storm my foot," she muttered as she dug through yet another pile, "a hoarder is what he is. Why even keep all this rubbish?"

Considering the sheer amount of clothes that were in the room, it was immensely frustrating that she could hardly find anything to wear. Finally she uncovered a pair of pants that were only a tad too long and thankfully devoid of rips and mysterious stains. Unfortunately they were hideous: neon orange with lime green polka dots. _Whoever designed this deserves to be strung upside down in them._ But she was willing to look past the garish design if it meant she didn't have to spend a minute longer in her now uncomfortably tight jeans. Finding a top was harder. The few clothes that she deemed safe were either much too small or so big she couldn't move without tripping over herself.

After a bit more sorting and shifting her way through the mounds of clothes, she pulled something brightly colored from one of the piles. It was a mustard yellow rain poncho. She gave it a quick scan and found it seemingly wearable.

_Figures the only thing that fits makes me look absolutely ridiculous._ The Doctor was never going to let her live this down when he saw it, but she was too anxious to get out of her wet clothes to really care anymore. Clara quickly changed into her new ensemble, sighing in relief as she peeled of her socks and threw them across the room. She decided just to go barefoot rather than try to find a new pair in the mound of clothes. She didn't need to see herself in a mirror to know how preposterous she must look. The TARDIS was making a humming noise that sounded to Clara almost like laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, live it up," she grumbled.

She made a mental note to bring an extra set of clothes next time she travelled with the Doctor so she would never have to do this sort of thing again. In any event, now she had to go find him and tell him to bring her back home so she could change into something that didn't make her look like an escapee from a clown asylum. No way in hell was she going out adventuring looking like this.

She left the room and went to search for the Time Lord.

* * *

"Doctor? Are you in here?" She took a quick glance around the study before shutting the door. This was the fifteenth room she had searched, and still no sign of him. Where had he gotten himself to?

He wasn't in the library, the console room, the kitchen (she made sure to check it was the right door this time), or any of the other rooms she had looked in. The TARDIS was enormous and Clara still didn't really know her way around, which wasn't helping her search. Many of the doors she opened with some trepidation, waiting for the TARDIS to pull something on her again. However, nothing out of the ordinary happened, for which she was very thankful.

This was going nowhere. At this rate Clara would never find the Doctor and she'd be stuck in this outrageous get-up for who knows how long.

"Alright you," she said to the TARDIS, "you know where he is, don't you? Are you done laughing at my outfit so you can help me out?"

The light at the end of the hallway flickered.

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

Clara followed the flickering lights down the hall until she was standing in front of a familiar door.

"Wait a minute now. I may not know my way around, but I'm not daft. Isn't this the pool?"

The light flashed quickly.

"If this is another prank of yours…" She carefully opened the door and peeked inside. There was no sign of the Doctor.

"You liar! He isn't-"

She wasn't able to finish her accusation, for at that moment the TARDIS gave a particularly violent lurch, throwing her over the threshold… and straight into the pool once more.

She let out a long scream of frustration as her newfound clothes were soaked through.

"You insufferable old cow! Don't you have better things to do than torture me?!"

She heard footsteps pounding down the hall outside and a moment later the Doctor threw open the door, his sonic screwdriver at the ready.

"Clara what's wrong, I heard-" he cut off abruptly, taking in the scene of Clara in the swimming pool for the second time that day. "Oh."

"The snog box is getting all her kicks in today," she responded sourly, splashing some water at the wall.

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not a snog box?" The Doctor tucked his screwdriver back in his pocket, still standing in the doorframe. He seemed to be trying his hardest to keep a straight face as he surveyed her clothing choices. "Is…is that a rain poncho you've got on?"

Clara felt her face reddening.

"It was one of the only decent things left that fit. I can't help the fact that half the clothing in there looked like it went through some sort of mad science experiment, _as I'm sure you knew_, didn't you?" Now he really was laughing at her.

_Well we'll see who has the last laugh, Doctor._

"Stop snickering and help me out already. Not only are they revolting, but these pants are also really heavy in water."

Still chuckling, the Doctor stepped out over the threshold and leaned over the side, hand outstretched. Clara took it, smiling, before giving it a short, hard yank.

_SPLASH!_

The Doctor fell into the pool, causing water to splash over the sides. When he surfaced, panting, the look he gave Clara was one of both shock and amazement.

"_You did that on purpose!"_

Now she was the one laughing as he frantically removed his bow tie, trying to save it from watery ruin.

"Learned your lesson now, chin boy? It's not nice to trick people."

"It wasn't a trick," he protested, "so much as an inquiry into your pragmatism! Make do with what you're given and all that-very important when you're travelling with me." He was smiling. "I must say though, the outfit you created is much more impressive than anything I was expecting."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Alright, alright. You win, Clara Oswald. No more tricks." He laughed. "At least from me. Can't guarantee anything for the TARDIS though." He glanced forlornly at the soggy fabric in his hand. "You owe me a new bow tie."

"_You_ owe _me_ a whole outfit. Two, actually, so why don't we just call it even? And now you can show me where the real wardrobe is."

"You don't like what you have now? The pants are especially wonderful in my opinion-I don't understand how those got thrown away! I think it could be the start of a whole new intergalactic trend!"

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I think you've caused enough fashion disasters to last a long time without me adding another."

He blushed.

"Well I…wait! Fashion disasters?! I'll have you know everything I wear is the _epitome of cool. _Why, one time…"


End file.
